


Unconventional

by PaletteHearts



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cliche, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, High School AU, M/M, Slow Burn, cliche tropes, hamjeff, headcanons, headfirst into teenage drama angst, if there are typos it's bc i am the only one who beta reads this sourry, kinda social media heavy, might be crack depending on how you interpret it, modern day AU, nah but prolly mostly fluff, sometimes i don't even beta read it, will add more charas in the tags as needed!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaletteHearts/pseuds/PaletteHearts
Summary: Thomas Jefferson is in his last year of high school and he's more than ready to leave. Meanwhile, Alexander Hamilton is in his second-to-last, but he's going all out. Hamilton didn't mean to be noticed, but he was - for better or for worse.





	1. Why, Hello There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend. Jefferson lurks on social media.

Thomas Jefferson didn't like to think himself a particularly picky person, but he couldn't deny it: high school was boring. And this idea was only further backed up by the boring social media accounts he was currently scrolling through on his phone that he had in one hand, sipping a Sunday morning coffee from his mug with the other. For goodness' sake, why was everyone so plain?

He stopped at an Instagram suggestion that had popped up: someone by the username of "a_dot_ham". Thomas boredly tapped on the profile, vaguely recognizing the person in the icon picture. The name slot only had "tomcat (kitten emoji) (kissy-face emoji)" on it but there was only one person this could be: Alexander Hamilton. Even though the kid was a year below him, Thomas had heard way more than necessary about the scholar. Hamilton was a straight A student, known not only for his top notch grades but his heavy involvement in several clubs on campus as well as the school's speech and debate team. The two of them never really had much reason to interact with each other, what with Jefferson now being in his fourth year and Hamilton only in his third, but the latter was constantly being mentioned in morning announcements (when he wasn't the one announcing them) and the like. The kid clearly didn't know how to tone it down.

Jefferson tapped on one of the many videos on Hamilton's profile and quickly came to realize that most of them weren't even recorded by Hamilton. For the most part, the account was run by some girls - the Schuyler sisters, Jefferson figured out from the captions - who took videos of him asleep on his laptop at odd places, or pictures of him with his hair in pigtails or face covered in makeup (a la the youngest Schuyler sister), or ones of him starting another riot in class. Jefferson hummed in spite of himself, not really seeing the appeal of such a troublemaker (for lack of a better word) like Hamilton but did give him credit for not being boring. He obviously provided a lot of content for the Schuyler sisters since the account already had more than a hundred posts.

However, that was  _nothing_ compared to the massive amount of tweets Hamilton had somehow accumulated on his Twitter page. Nearly all of them were his own words, too, and not retweets (save for some selfies via "turtlesnotwar"). After a little bit of searching here and there, it was surprisingly clear that Hamilton replied to every single person, whether they agreed with him or not. The fact that he apparently never ran out of things to say was actually rather impressive, but even more so was his damn lack of common sense. Twitter was supposed to be a place to send out short messages and yet Hamilton was posting essays (albeit them often being broken up into several tweets) - threads upon threads upon threads. Jefferson huffed, unconsciously stirring the bowl of soup in front of him a little faster. Sally must have noticed because she quickly said something about if the alphabet soup wasn't to his liking, she could get him something else, but Jefferson only made a noise of disagreement and waved a dismissive hand in response.

It was almost endearing how Hamilton gave literally everyone who argued with him the time of day, Jefferson thought pitifully as he scrolled down the endless sea of tweets. The kid might be smart, but ambition was ultimately also his downfall: his stubborn pride basically rendered him incapable of letting anything go. And that seemed to be the blinding difference between him and Thomas Jefferson.

Jefferson finally looked up from his phone, setting it down next to his bowl and propping an elbow up on the dining table. It was long, terribly long, unnecessarily so because aside from him it was completely empty. They had a large table in case any guests were to come over, but most of the guests were usually invited by his parents. His parents were currently in France for a business trip. Again.

He let his cheek rest on the palm of his hand as he watched Sally tidying up the kitchen and let out a soft, near inaudible sigh. With not much else to do his thoughts gradually drifted back to Hamilton, and he wondered what it would be like to be friends with someone like him. Would they get along? He knew Hamilton was a troublemaker but he wondered if he could be the person to settle him down, to keep him in place and ground him when he got too caught up in himself. Was that a possibility? Or were their personalities bound to clash and Jefferson was only kidding himself with ideas like friendship?

Thomas stopped to think about it. Best case scenario, Alexander would recognize their similar levels of intellect and might even look up to him for it. Worst case scenario, they'd be sworn enemies - cats and dogs, hot and cold. Perhaps it would never work out. Jefferson certainly had enough reason to think so. And yet…

Jefferson turned his head again, viewing the grand yet empty house, so inviting yet so… lonesome. Quiet. He wondered what it would be like to have the spot on the couch next to him occupied, or to hear another voice in the air besides his own or Sally's that he had gotten so used to. He wondered what it would be like, to abandon the calm and let in a storm, a storm that could potentially change the course of his life.

Well, it's not like he had much to lose.

So Jefferson picked up his phone again with a grunt, scrolling up to find Hamilton's Twitter biography. It consisted of a handsome list of accomplishments (no doubt only a select few though) as well as some of the clubs he was a part of. How modest, Jefferson internally commented.

Below the bio, in a pinned tweet, was just what Jefferson was looking for: a Snapchat username. Fate or just lucky? Whatever, he'd take a gamble.

The tweet read:

 

_LHS SPEECH KIDS ADD ME ON SC FOR LIVE TOURNEY INFO! WILL BE POSTING ROUNDS, LOCATIONS ETC_

_lhsalexspeech_

 

Very creative, Jefferson applauded in his head.

Nevertheless, Jefferson switched over to his Snapchat app and searched up the username before he could second guess himself, and lo and behold, the user picture was that of one Alexander Hamilton in a sharp black suit with a power-green-colored tie, the photo candid and… well, Jefferson had to admit, striking. Someone had obviously taken the photo for him - Hamilton probably would have left the avatar blank if it were up to him, just like his Instagram account. On that note, Hamilton probably didn't have a separate Snapchat account for personal use either, because he already had this one and it'd be too much of a hassle to make another.

And so Jefferson tapped the plus button to add the user as a friend.

He wasn't in speech and debate anymore since college was in a year's time and he wanted to focus on applications, but maybe he could consider if it meant getting to witness the spitfire that was Alexander Hamilton. The guy was entertaining at least. It'd be a good distraction from the stress of senior year, Jefferson reasoned.

Well, before anything else, he ought to introduce himself. But how? First impressions had to be good - this was his chance to start off on a positive note. He didn't know if he was ready to message Alexander in a chatroom - too forward anyway. Should he just send a photo? What would he take a photo of, though? His house? Too pretentious. Himself? No, Hamilton would likely jump to conclusions and get the wrong idea…

His eyes wandered again over to the bowl of soup in front of him.

Taking photos of food was normal in this day and age, right?

Maybe this would be okay. Maybe he could arrange a message that would seem strange in a chatroom message but witty or cute in his alphabet soup. Well, this was Jefferson. Pretty much anything he did could be considered endearing.

"Sally, could you pass me an extra bowl?" Jefferson called out, already shifting the letters around with his spoon. Sally was at his side in under a minute with a clean bowl, one which Jefferson transferred some excess letters to after crafting his message, making it as readable as possible for the camera.

He snapped a photo, not bothering to caption it, and sent it to Hamilton's user without a second thought. No turning back now.

The photo that had yet to reach Hamilton said, in alphabet soup letters:

why

hello

there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry, I was in a writing mood. I literally can’t tell if this is a crack fic or what. I just wanted to write some Jamilton. ;w; part of this actually came to me in a dream & if it felt weird or off, that’s why lol. maybe more to come…? also I can't think of any good names for their school so I'm open to suggestions!! <3


	2. 20 Most Luxurious Dog Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a filler chapter to explain Alex’s living situation. Platonic lams (John Laurens is a cinnamon roll) included. Also a follow-up on tjeffs’ lurking because I like him <3

Sunday afternoon rolled by much slower than Jefferson would have liked, but that was mostly because he kept checking his phone every five (well, he wanted to say five, but it was probably closer to two) minutes to see if he had received a reply from Hamilton yet. The anticipation was slowly killing him, even though he knew it wouldn’t be anything drastically life-changing if Hamilton never did reply. After all, they didn’t see much of each other at school to begin with, so it wasn’t like anything would change.

But screw it. This wasn’t some business he was trying to run -- Jefferson could afford to be irrational in matters like these if he wanted to be, so that’s exactly what he did.

For the upteenth time that day, Jefferson reopened his Snapchat application and slid over to see his sent messages. The grey arrow next to Hamilton’s username still mocked him, and Jefferson clicked his tongue in annoyance like it actually was the arrow’s fault.

Okay, so Hamilton hadn’t accepted his friend request yet. _He probably hasn’t seen it,_ the rational side of Jefferson tried to argue. And it was a reasonable guess -- Hamilton obviously used that account for school purposes, so if he saw that he had received a message from someone he’d most likely reply and at least ask them if they had any questions regarding the school’s speech team. Because Hamilton replied to _everyone_.

Jefferson was usually all for being an exception, because that was his thing. In this case, though, he didn’t want to be one, because that would mean that Hamilton had ignored him. And being ignored would be worse than being insulted.

So he propped open _The Iliad_ , sat back in his space on the living room couch -- the temperature in the house was comfortably cool -- and waited.

 

[. . .]

 

Meanwhile, at the Laurens household.

John Laurens paused his video game and dropped his controller with a loud, dramatic sigh and twisted around to glance at his favorite housemate -- one Alexander Hamilton. John had been leaning on the side of the bed (which Hamilton was currently occupying) while sitting on the floor in front of a large TV where he previously had been trying out a new combo for his fighting game. That didn’t work out, so now he was back to bugging Hamilton.

“Aleeeeeex,” John whined, purposefully elongating his name. Hamilton didn’t even look up from the laptop that was perched perfectly on his lap as he sat with legs crossed. “This is boring. Play with me. You’re supposed to be my Player 2!”

“Can’t hear you,” Hamilton mumbled, still not sparing a glance.

“You’re not even wearing earbuds!”

“You only say it’s boring because you lost,” he remarked, finally slowing down his typing to smirk at Laurens.

John feigned irritation, but he was happy to at least have gotten a response. “Not true. It’s boring because you’re not playing with me.”

“You sound like a kid.”

“I’m seventeen, I am a kid! And for what it’s worth, you sound like an old man,” Laurens pouted.

“I have a lot of work to do.”

“School hasn’t even started yet!”

“It starts next week. I need to get everything ready for the freshmen -- first impressions are important, you know. And I’m still behind on getting ahead in some of my classes because of that shit I had to take care of at speech camp. God, you would think incoming freshmen would at least know how to-- mmmmph?!”

John had stuffed a (rather large) chocolate-covered donut in Hamilton’s mouth and was nonchalantly checking his phone like nothing had happened. “Ambition isn’t bad, Alex, but you’ve literally been working non-stop for the past two months. It is literally the last week of vacation before school. Literally. I love hanging with you while you do your nonexistent homework, but I’d love it _more_ if you actually hung out with me for non-school-related purposes!”

Hamilton made a noise of protest but it was muffled by the donut he was still trying to finish chewing on.

“You always say that you want to repay me and my parents, but you could repay me right now just by playing this video game with me. It doesn’t even have to be video games, we can play Scrabble or -- what’s that game you like -- Monopoly with my siblings even though they probably wouldn’t understand. Seriously, I just wanna hang with you. For funsies. And it’d make my parents happy to see me happy, too, so that’s two birds with one stone.”

Hamilton gulped down practically half of the donut, the other remaining half now in his hand.

“I’m repaying them by studying and making something out of myself. I can’t just relax and do nothing when you guys have done so much for me,” Hamilton said, tone serious now as he faced Laurens from his spot on the bed. “I can’t stay useless forever. I have to get a good job so that I can give back to your parents and I can’t get a good job unless I excel in school and I can’t excel unless I study. Scholarships won’t just be dropped off at the doorstep -- I have to earn them. I can’t afford to take breaks, John, there’s so much I have to do.”

“You’re not useless,” Laurens assured him, swiftly moving back to an earlier point. “You know no one thinks that. We love having you here.”

“But I can’t leech off of you guys forever.”

“Alex,” John started, only frustrated because he hated knowing that Hamilton felt this way, and that there was nothing he could do about it, either.

He loved Alexander like a brother -- hell, they practically were brothers. His parents, being in a good financial standing, had agreed to take in Alexander when he first moved to the States a few years back. Not having any family in a new country had been rough, but John had befriended him fast, and when he learned about Alexander’s situation, well, that was that.

“I’m not throwing away my shot,” Hamilton said quietly, seemingly to himself at first, but when he turned to look at Laurens there was a gleam in his eye. Laurens could only smile in response.

“Not throwing away my shot,” Laurens agreed, and the two shared a look of mutual understanding without having to say anything else.

The mood had shifted now, and Hamilton went back to polishing off the rest of his donut before exiting out of some sites on his laptop.

“Hey, John, pass me my phone? I need to take a picture of one of my papers.”

John picked up Hamilton’s phone from where it was charging on the wooden study desk and clicked the screen on.

“Holy shit,” John muttered in awe of the several notifications that popped up -- there were so many that he had to scroll down to look at all of them, and even then the amount of messages seemed endless. Unsurprisingly, the phone was at 100%, too, like it hadn’t been touched all day.

“John?”

“Emails, email, email -- oh my gosh Alex how many people are you fighting on Twitter? -- email, email -- oh, hey, someone wants to be your friend on Snap.”

“Add them," Hamilton said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I mean, I _told_ the freshmen to add me weeks earlier, but sure, add them still. Better late than never.”

Laurens didn’t even have to ask for the passcode as he easily unlocked Hamilton’s iPhone with a combination of numbers (it was Hamilton’s favorite actress, Maria Reynolds’ birthday) and went to accept the request when his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Laurens intelligently reiterated. This time with more feeling. “ _Thomas Jefferson_ wants to add you? You didn’t tell me you guys were buddies!”

Hamilton scrunched up his face in confusion. “We’re not? I don’t know a Jefferson.”

Laurens made a shocked noise at this, disbelief evident in his voice. “He’s a grade above us? Senior? Was voted best dressed, like, every single year in the yearbook?”

“And why should I care about who’s best dressed again?”

“Because it’s _Thomas_ friggin’ _Jefferson_ ,” Laurens stated as if that would make everything clearer. Hamilton raised an eyebrow. Laurens rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure he’s gonna be valedictorian of his class. Actually, I think _everyone’s_ pretty sure. His parents donate a shit ton of money to the school programs he’s in, too.”

“Yeah? How come I’ve never heard of him?”

“You probably have. He’s the one who’s always surrounded by a flock of girls at the cafeteria.”

And only then did it dawn on him. Oh, sweet realization.

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say. Yes, he did know the guy, but this Jefferson character was always smooth-talking a female student or being fawned over by the teachers -- and when he wasn’t, he was arm-in-arm with James Madison, the epitome of a constantly-tired-out high school teenager. Why would someone like Jefferson ever give Hamilton the time of day?

Now highly curious, Alexander gestured for Laurens to come over, and Laurens immediately sat next to him on the mattress.

“Here, he sent you a picture.” John passed the phone over, and Hamilton held it in between them so that they both could see as he accepted the request before opening the photo. It was a little blurry on Hamilton’s refurbished iPhone 4, but they could still make out the words that were spelled out in alphabet soup letters.

It lasted exactly five seconds before the photo disappeared into Snapchat oblivion.

“Uh,” Laurens commented first.

“...The hell? What does that mean?” Hamilton’s face was a perfect picture of confusion, if not suspicion. “John, you’re the expert on young people lingo, you decipher it.”

“That wasn’t a meme. I know my memes.”

Hamilton tilted his head in thought, still staring at the phone screen which had now gone dark. “Do you think he wants to join the speech team? I did leave it on my Twitter. He could’ve just messaged me, though.”

Laurens shrugged. “Icebreaker? Maybe he wanted to be friends.”

Hamilton scoffed at that, but there was something tugging at his heart at the thought of someone like Jefferson wanting to be friends. With _him_. Unfortunately, Alexander’s ever-present caution toward protecting his reputation won out over the brief moment he had felt something else toward the man, and he quickly turned his phone on again to send out a reply. He opened up a chatroom and began typing out a message, Laurens hovering over his shoulder to watch.

“Whoa. Kinda harsh, Alex?”

“It’s not harsh,” Hamilton protested defensively. “It’s professional. He probably just wants to ask about the speech team. He should’ve just said so in the first place. Why else would he want to talk to me?”

Laurens sighed in exaggerated exasperation, but he had to admit that it was nice seeing Hamilton giving so much attention to something -- well, someone -- other than schoolwork for once.

“I sent it,” Hamilton declared after no more than a few moments.

“Already? What did you say?”

Hamilton casually handed the phone over. The message illuminated on the screen read:

 

_Thomas, I get no satisfaction witnessing your ominous messages. Frankly, I can’t tell if this is supposed to be friendly or mocking or what. If you would like to inquire about the LHS speech team, do feel free to message me in this chatroom rather than communicating through cryptic photos._

_Much appreciated,_

_A. Ham_

 

“Dude!” Laurens exclaimed with a tone of disapproval. “If it was anyone other than Thomas Jefferson you would’ve scared him away. Even though the soup thing _w_ _as_ kinda cryptic.”

“Just being honest,” Hamilton shrugged, already reaching for his laptop again.

“Oh, no, you are _not_ leaving Thomas Jefferson on a note like that,” John warned, pulling Hamilton back by the collar of his hoodie.

“Ouch! Christ, John, you talk about him like he's the Foreign Minister or something.”

“He hasn’t done anything to you!”

“Not yet he hasn't.”

“Just give it a chance. If it doesn't turn out well, you know I'll still be there to back you up.”

“Ugh, you and your moral conscience,” Hamilton said, finally starting to give in when he turned around only to find the camera pointed at him, John snickering behind his phone.

There was a loud crash that caught the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Laurens downstairs, but thankfully no one died.

 

[. . .]

 

That same evening, some odd blocks away at a local Starbucks.

Thomas Jefferson sat at a high table across from a chair currently occupied by one James Madison, his best friend for God knows how long. Jefferson was on his laptop, watching _20 Most Luxurious Dog Houses_ on Youtube (and wondering how he had deviated so far from his original plans of actually being productive) when his phone buzzed, alerting him of a new notification.

If Madison hadn’t been there, Jefferson would have dived for the cellular device like a starved madman -- but no, he had to control himself. He knew better than to make a fool out of himself in public. Even if making a fool of himself was _completely_ justified in this instance.

“Thomas? Is something wrong?” Madison suddenly piped up, forcing Jefferson out of his thoughts. He was eyeing him worriedly.

Jefferson shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”

“You were spacing out.”

“Was not.” Jefferson laughed incredulously, trying to hide the fact that his heart rate had picked up as he very casually reached for his phone, but the movement was so ostentatiously casual that it became deliberately slow. Madison stared, brows furrowed in suspicion.

“Did something happen, Thomas?”

“Nothing happened!” Thomas raised his voice as if to make the idea seem ridiculous, but perhaps he made his voice too high because Madison still stared at him with narrowed eyes over his venti iced caramel macchiato. Jefferson almost wanted to squeal like a schoolboy at the Snapchat notification he had received from _lhsalexspeech_ , but he quickly calmed himself down, in his head running through all the possible reactions he might have received from Hamilton before opening the chatroom.

As he attempted to perform this feat as least visibly as possible, Madison discreetly hopped down from his chair and glanced at the front counter.

“Thomas, I’m going to grab some water. Do you want a cup?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jefferson all but mumbled. He was practically shooing the other man away. “Thanks, Mads.”

 _Mads_? Okay, something was definitely up. Madison knew that he only ever used that nickname when he was trying to hide something. It was something like faux friendliness -- Thomas would always overdo “normal” when something was wrong, although he himself wasn’t aware of it (and, most of the time, neither was the general public). As childhood friends, the two were obviously close enough to be on a first-name basis, but nicknames had never really stuck no matter how much they tried.

So Madison picked up the two cups of water from the front counter and, on his way back, purposefully took a different, longer route to their table. And when he found Thomas suspiciously still hunching over his phone, head tilted as he touched his chin like he was solving some really hard physics problem, Madison didn't feel guilty at all for coming up behind Jefferson’s shoulder, eyes glued to the phone that lay on the table.

“And what do we have here?” Madison suddenly asked, face totally straight and serious like a teacher about to reprimand a child.

Jefferson uncharacteristically jumped in surprise, and before he could reach over to hide his phone out of sight Madison had already swiped it off the counter, the phone successfully having been replaced with a cup of water.

“James, what the fu--”

“You're snapchatting someone,” Madison said, as a statement rather than a question. He paused, eyes widening ever so slightly. “You're snapchatting _Alexander Hamilton_?” This time it was a question.

“So what if I am?” Jefferson huffed, snatching his phone back, and Madison let him.

“He's so… rambunctious.” Madison crinkled his nose. “Of course, I don't know him personally, though. Is he actually a decent guy?”

“We just started talking. He seemed like an interesting character.”

“Understatement of the century,” Madison grumbled.

“What? You've talked with him before?”

“We had a class together one year. Foreign language. He was ahead so he got to be with the upperclassmen,” he explained. “Got assigned to the same group for a project. Now, you'd think _I_ was the overachiever for writing 25 pages instead of my assigned eight, but the dude wrote 51. _Fifty-one_ , Thomas.”

“Must've been a pain to grade,” Jefferson snorted.

“Yeah,” Madison nodded. “He's only a transfer but he's real popular in his classes. I don't know if that's really a good thing, but the principal seems to like him.”

“Nice,” Jefferson let slip, but then rolled his eyes so as to make the comment seem sarcastic. Madison was about to comment when Jefferson’s phone buzzed again, lighting up with another notification from lhsalexspeech. This time he had sent an image.

Thomas unlocked his phone again, and even though Madison’s eyes didn't stay from the screen, he decided to go through with opening the photo anyway knowing that Madison wouldn't drop the issue even if he shooed him away.

When the image finally loaded, the two leaned in close, and up came a photo of -- the man himself -- Alexander Hamilton, in the flesh, eyes weighed down by dark eye bags, yet still, somehow, so charming in the way his personality always seemed to shine through outward appearances…

Wait, no. Not charming, Jefferson mentally smacked himself. It was probably just his housemate’s exceptional lighting skills (in the photo, Alexander was clearly trying to stop the mystery cameraman from taking the picture). He barely knew the guy. Could he mean to say that they’d talked _once_ (in technicality, they hadn’t actually talked at all since Jefferson hadn’t even opened the chatroom yet) and he was already attracted? Was he so much of a hopeless romantic, so much of a novice in the games of love that he would fall in love at first sight?

No, that would be foolish. No one really falls in love at first sight. It was something that only happened in wish-fulfilling romcoms, tropes that never actually would occur in real life because then the whole world would be falling in love. Granted, this wasn’t his first ‘sight’, he had seen Alexander many times around the school hallways, but still…

Great, now he was beginning to think of the guy on a first-name basis, too. Fortunately, Jefferson was smart enough to catch himself before he fell in too deep, too fast.

Madison just shook his head.

“So,” Madison said a little louder than necessary, clapping his hands together for emphasis because if he didn’t he feared Jefferson would remain unreachable in that head of his for who knows how long. Maybe he didn’t know how to get back out to the real world sometimes because of all that hair. Fortunately though, Jefferson had heard him and looked up. “What do you suppose that caption meant?”

“The caption?”

Oh, right, there was a caption near the bottom too, but Jefferson had not-so-discreetly been too focused on Hamilton.

“Yes. The one that said, ‘Sorry he’s such a buzzkill’,” his friend so thoughtfully elaborated, already knowing it wouldn’t help to call Jefferson out now for spacing out.

“Oh, right! That caption,” Jefferson snapped his fingers. “Well, we’ll find out. Here, he sent me a message, too.”

The two leaned in toward the phone again like it was some holy book that would reveal to them their futures, and up came Hamilton’s message.

It was certainly more than Jefferson had hoped for, but the words were, just like Hamilton himself, very blunt and telling of his honest reactions. As much as he wanted to be mad, how could he when Hamilton was only being truthful? On the other hand, did Hamilton even know how to _not_ be so truthful? He could see that this only increased Hamilton’s chances of making enemies. He probably couldn’t sugarcoat to save his life.

Tsk tsk, Hamilton, yet another fatal flaw. Well, at least now he knew the guy was human.

“Well, Thomas?”

“James,” Jefferson drawled with a side-smile at his friend. “I’m going to join the speech team.”

“Thomas.” He nudged Jefferson’s now-lukewarm mocha latte toward the taller man. “You need to think about this first. There’s a reason you took it out of your schedule, remember?”

“And now there’s a reason I’m adding it back in.”

“Thomas, you shouldn’t make a decision like this on the spot. You need to--”

“Oh!” Jefferson suddenly exclaimed. “I just had the _best_ idea. You should join me!”

Madison’s head hurt. “Why would I join you?”

“Since you’re so worried it’s going to affect my schedule. It’ll be fun, James, I’ll show you the ropes.”

“As much as I would love to be at your coattails everyday, Thomas, I have a lot I need to do before college app season starts. I know my limits. But I have faith that you’ll manage,” he added sympathetically when Jefferson made pouty lips.

“Fine, then,” Jefferson said, dipping his green straw into his drink and then licking the whipped cream off of the straw. “More _Hamildrama_ for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own 20 Most Luxurious Dog Houses. The video tjeffs was watching is by Talltanic on Youtube :D if u made it this far thx for reading!!! More to come!


End file.
